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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27813748">Letters to No One</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/jetvamp/pseuds/jetvamp'>jetvamp</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Undertale (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Letters to no one, Mental Health Issues, Other, Reader is sad, i wrote this in the middle of the night while having a breakdown lmao, is it one sided, is it slow burn, pre-canon to post-pacifist, reader writes letters, unconventional slash reader, who knows - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 17:27:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>478</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27813748</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/jetvamp/pseuds/jetvamp</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>As the days bleed together, Sans finds a lockbox in the dump in Waterfall. The contents lead him to return for the item each reset.</p><p>There's a story that's been locked up and washed away.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sans (Undertale)/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Letters to No One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi! As a longtime fan of Undertale, this is my first contribution to the fandom as a writer. It started as a sort of vent piece, and then I built a loose plot over it. I hope you enjoy it. I'll try to upload it when I can, mental health can be a thing.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>It had started innocently enough.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The first time he found the lockbox was in the middle of the night, on a scrap metal run. That damned machine wouldn’t repair itself now, would it? It was tiring work, taking several shortcuts to get sheets of metal from various discarded human appliances back in his small lab. He would later dismantle the items and put them on the machine to fix it up from its most recent hiccup.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was glad Papyrus had been out then.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was when he had teleported back after taking a car door to the lab that he had found the lockbox. It was dented and most of the paint chipped off of it, but still perfectly sealed. It looked air tight.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Curious, he took it by the handle and lifted in into his hand. Regarding it curiously, he shook the metal box. Water didn’t slosh around the insides, but he did feel the contents of the lockbox shift. Well, that was interesting.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He teleported it to the lab and continued his scrap metal search, agreeing to look at the lockbox later. Papyrus would be up soon, he needed to get this done.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>A few days later, when he had finished working on the metal he’d salvaged, he finally turned his attention to the lockbox.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Picking locks wasn’t anything hard, especially with magic on your side. Humans never enchanted their safes, and he found it absurd. Wouldn’t mages want to make a profit from selling simple safes with enchantments? None of the technology had magic in it. It was almost as if humans no longer had magic.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was wishful thinking to think humans wouldn’t destroy and condemn their own, wasn’t it?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Letters. The lockbox was full of letters. Filled with dozens upon dozens of letters. Each one labeled with a number. #1, #2, #3, #4, #5… so and so forth. And, taped to the first letter was a piece of paper that simply stated:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘</span>
  </em>
  <strike>
    <em>
      <span>Dear-</span>
    </em>
  </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike>
    <em>
      <span>Hello reade-</span>
    </em>
  </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike>
    <em>
      <span>Dear future me-</span>
    </em>
  </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>To no one-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Once upon a time, there was nothing left to say. But the words burned in my lungs, and caught fire in my throat. When I tried to scream that I was burning inside, burning inside out, all they could see was the fire pouring out of my mouth like a dragon. I was no dragon. I was dying. I was dying and the help I wanted to scream out for never came. And if my pain couldn’t be spoken, I would write it. I needed it, desperately. I needed people to know I tried. I tried, despite how I suffered. I burned like a coal mine silently aflame If by chance, you find this, I hope you find it in yourself to forgive me. You’re in for a long read. And not all of it is good.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Y/N’</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
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